A HENRY STORY 3: Covenants Of The Fallen Prince

IX. Vow to the Dead

"The mouses take a nap?"

Somewhere behind him, Gregor screamed for the lights to be killed. The shiner's backsides went dark, leaving only the Overlander's flashlight to illuminate their way. Just not what lay below.

Henry heard Luxa soothe Hazard. There had been nothing, she said over and over. Despite her efforts, her own horror still seeped through in her voice.

Henry needed no light to see; the sound of the fliers' wings was more than enough for him. He saw . . . and he had to hold back a gag, not just from the smell. They had been too late, he thought over and over. He had been too late. He was . . . He had failed. It was all he could still think and barely fight against the growing despair. No matter how hard he tried to remind himself that he couldn't give in—not if there was still hope for the others—at that moment, it felt like all of his belief had dissipated.

Henry could do nothing but cling to Thanatos' fur and battle his own trembling as his bond pressed on. He could not speak, not say anything to the children he had guided here. All he could see were the horrific pictures painted by his echolocation, merging with feverish impressions from his dreams and . . . the repressed memories from the bottom of another pit. Of wading through blood, of the stench of iron, death, and despair. And beneath it all lay the searing truth that he had been too late to save them. Them, and who knew how many more?

Thanatos told the party to land some half a mile from the pit with the corpses. After Howard finished making a bed for Hazard and Boots, Luxa tugged at his arm. "I must go back."

"I will go as well," said Henry. "We must look for survivors. Anyone we can still . . . still . . ." He took a deep breath. "Still save." He spat the words out, gritting his teeth against the pain of failure. The kind of failure that cost lives. Hundreds of lights, all snuffed out . . . because he hadn't been there fast enough.

"You must remain with the young ones," said Luxa, looking at Hazard and Boots; she had snuggled up to Temp, although the crawler was wide awake and trembling miserably. Only Thalia was not settled yet; she sobbed piteously, hiding within Thanatos' wing. Nike sat in front of them, speaking quietly.

Howard wiped his ashen face and looked back and forth between the two of them. "What of Gregor?" was all he asked.

"I'll come," said the Overlander; he was paler than Henry had ever seen him.

"You do not have to," said Ares.

"Worry not; we shall be back shortly." Henry placed a hand on his shoulder, attempting to sound calming.

"I will come," was all Gregor replied, and there was no arguing with his words. He did not push his hand away, though, and so Henry left it right where it was while Howard prepared for them cloths drenched in antiseptic solution. They would provide some protection against the odor of decomposing flesh.

"Be careful about touching any of them," heeded Howard. "We know not if they are infectious."

"I will not allow anyone to be harmed," replied Henry in a stale voice, not knowing whether he was speaking about the children or the nibblers. "No more harm to anyone."

Howard held his gaze for a heartbeat, then gave a nod of acknowledgment. And so they left Howard, Nike, and Temp to watch over the kids, along with Photos Glow-Glow. Meanwhile, Zap escorted Henry, Gregor, Luxa, and their bonds back to the nibblers.

When Thanatos touched down amidst the mangled corpses and Henry slid off his back, he nearly toppled. He could see it before his inner eye, as if it had occurred just two days ago, not two years. The odor was made bearable by Howard's cloths, yet that was not what made the ground beneath him sway.